"Oliver was frightened at the sight of so many gentlemen, which made him tremble: and the beadle gave him another tap behind, which made him cry; and these two causes made him answer in a very low and hesitating voice; whereupon a gentleman in a white waistcoat said he was a fool, which was a capital way of raising his spirit, and putting him quite at his ease.
"'Boy,' said the gentleman in the high chair: 'listen to me. You know you're an orphan, I suppose?'"
"'What's that, sir?" inquired poor Oliver.
"'The boy is a fool—I thought he was,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat in a very decided tone. If one member of a class be blessed with an intuitive perception of others of the same race, the gentleman in the white waistcoat was unquestionably well qualified to pronounce an opinion on the matter.
"'Hush!' said the gentleman who had spoken first. 'You know you've got no father or mother, and that you are brought up by the parish, don't you?'
"'Yes, sir,' replied Oliver, weeping bitterly.
"'What are you crying for?' inquired the gentleman in the white waistcoat; and to be sure it was very extraordinary. What could he be crying for?
"'I hope you say your prayers every night,' said another gentleman in a gruff voice, 'and pray for the people who feed you, and take care of you, like a Christian.'
"'Yes, sir,' stammered the boy. The gentleman who spoke last was unconsciously right. It would have been very like a Christian, and a marvellously good Christian, too, if Oliver had prayed for the people who fed and took care of him. But he hadn't, because nobody had taught him.
"'Well you have come here to be educated, and taught a useful trade,' said the red-faced gentleman in the high chair.